Dirty
by Yin1
Summary: This is the sequel to Dark Release. I hope you all like it! Yohji and Aya come to terms with their unstable relationship with the unintentional help of an unwelcome rival. Please R
1. Falling

**Title: Dirty**

**Disclaimers: No, no and no, I do not own, I just like to play with the boys. Don't sue, you'll get a couple of Monopoly paper dollars.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Summary: Yohji and Aya come to terms with their unstable relationship with the unintentional help of an unwelcome rival.**

**AN: Enjoy the sequel to Dark Release. R&R, don't be too harsh on me. **

**Chapter 1: Falling.**

Aya Fujimiya glared at the flat wooden surface, willing it to disappear with his mind. He stood with his hand raised, poised to knock; his fist shook slightly, taking a deep breath he forced himself into a nearly unbearable state of calmness.

Beauty wasn't something he longed to possess, he considered himself to be fairly average, though not easy to blend into a colorless multitude due to his stark coloring. But yet he had the unfortunate knack of meeting people that were far too beautiful for their own good. Most of the time, no superfluous amount of loveliness had been able to catch his attention and steer him from the never ending self-destructive goal that he aimed for in his life as an assassin. Yet, he'd had the bad luck of being attracted to a man that was beauty in its human making and danger in the human vocabulary and he had been stupid enough to sleep with him, many times. He was an idiot for telling his fellow teammate and lover Yohji Kudoh that he loved him three months ago, because everything had gone downhill since then.

It wasn't that he didn't try, in fact he did every thing to please Yohji, he did all he could to convince himself that someday no matter how far away that was, he would truly fall in love with his boyfriend. It was just that that day never came and their relationship had gone from bad to worse. Yohji was hurt when Aya forgot to reply "I love you too" after the man had said the toe curling words. Yohji got pissed when Aya locked himself in his room if something was bothering him, but the blonde didn't understand that he needed his space and that Yohji wasn't the center of Aya's universe. Maybe he was exaggerating but he felt as if he was being stifled in a meaningless bond that would do nothing more than hurt both of them.

The final straw had occurred the past month, Yohji had dragged him to a club with the idea of getting a few drinks in his system and then going home when things got too heated between the two of them. Well things had gotten out of hand, Yohji had tried to coerce him into going onto the dance floor and he had vehemently refused. With a few choice words the lanky blonde had stalked off and got himself dead drunk and in bed with a voluptuous brunette after stranding Aya.

Aya still didn't understand what Yohji found in the monotonous one night stands he had resumed to, he had no knowledge or experience with that subject. Yohji had happily returned to his nightly life after bringing an end to the rocky relationship; saying that if Aya wasn't willing to handle the pressure, then he rejected the idea of carrying the foundation of their affair on his own. It was fine by Aya; he had never had more freedom or more quiet, that was until he started to miss Yohji's tenderness and the heat of his body in the middle of the night. He started to notice that the other man really wasn't having fun and that he was only burying his grief in alcohol, sex, and Aya suspected, drugs. They were slowly destroying each other and didn't understand it. It was mainly Aya's fault because no matter how hard he tried he could never have a decent conversation with his lover without closing off and mounting his protective walls, not to mention sleeping in his own bedroom for nearly a week. So they had tried to return to their old lifestyle and break it all off, settling into their previous routine. At first it had gone very well, but Aya even confused himself, he didn't care much for being near Yohji but he couldn't be without the older man. It puzzled and aggravated him to no ends, his obvious indecisiveness, which was funny because he didn't have to think twice to kill a man in cold blood.

It all seemed to be back to normal now, Omi and Ken had just pretended that the two oldest members of Weiss hadn't been lovers all along and everything was fine. Aya fitted easily into the position as resident grouch and Yohji as resident slut. But at times he grew angry at the blonde and even at himself, for letting Yohji slip past his defenses so easily, for allowing him the fantasy of what they could've been and what they'd both lost. He hated it because with that dream came regrets and more pain than he was willing to acknowledge, Aya had grown weak and he blamed Yohji for it. Why had the man chosen him to yell at, to fuss at, to love and then leave? He despised it because he wanted what they had again and he didn't know how to get it. A little voice in his head told him that that he did.

Yohji always came home in the early hours of the morning, his hair tousled clothes in disarray and his body limp and sated, with a dreamy expression on his face that Aya knew too well because he had seen it many times after their love making. Yohji wore his sexual encounters on his sleeve and rubbed them into Aya's face, it was as if he was silently gloating "I've been fucking and I don't care who knows it." By now Aya had grown outwardly indifferent to Yohji's verbal assaults. The older man had taken to telling them over breakfast about his wild erotic escapades. His explicit explanations and detailed storytelling brought Omi nearly to tears before fleeing the dining room and it caused Ken to let out a string of curses and turn interesting shades from pink to bright red while trying to prove that he was man enough to sit through it all. Aya just sipped his tea and ignored whatever his former lover was blabbing about. That infuriated Yohji, the redhead knew it and relished it.

The same thing had been going on for two weeks and Aya was sick of it, he was going to put and end to this stupidity even if it killed him. He took a deep breath, recalling all the reasons why he was standing in front of Yohji's door and why he shouldn't turn back. With a deep breath he turned the knob and stepped into the darkened room, not surprised that it was unlocked. Yohji was always in a hurry to take his dick out and put it to good use. Harsh breathing and throaty moans filled his ears; he didn't even try to block them out. Yohji was there, the large bed was rumpled but empty, the scent in the room was heady, a musky aroma he didn't need to identify. He heard the muffled sound of a body being repeatedly thumped against the wall.

Then he saw Yohji.

Human perfection couldn't be attained but he was the closest thing Aya had come across in his lifetime. He was slowly pounding into her, fucking her fragile body into the wall as she wrapped her limbs around him, his muscled buttocks contracting with his forceful movements. He thrust three more times and they both shuddered and moaned out loud. They fell to the floor, a boneless heap of limbs rendered limp with the intensity of release, their breathing labored but slowly gaining back its normal rhythm. The woman reached up to kiss him, a simple gesture of affection in the aftermath of sex. He turned his face away abruptly then stood up and sat on the messy bed. A twinge of anger crossed her attractive features and she walked over to the nightstand and knelt to pick up her discarded garments, she grabbed them violently and with a last venomous glower she rushed out the door, not even noticing their reluctant spectator.

Lazy green eyes flickered to the corner where he was, "I know you're there," he whispered softly, a feral gleam in those eyes flashed briefly in the faint light.

Aya smiled gently, "Hn, I know. Was the show for me?"

A bare display of white teeth curved lush lips into a cruel snarl. "Why the hell are you here?"

The spiteful question went unheeded and with a careless shrug, Aya just asked a question of his own, "Tell me, was she a mindless fuck?"

Yohji's head twisted away from Aya's weak view, his long blonde hair covering half of his face, hiding a vulnerable expression.

"What do you care?"

"I don't." A brief snort.

"Then fuck off." A pause.

"I can't."

Yohji shook his head gently, "You're hopeless, ne?"

Aya walked over to the only window in the room and pulled back the heavy drapes, the pale glare of moonlight filtered the room, making Yohji's naked form seem paler, shadows twisted over his body. "Yes, we're hopeless."

The older man chuckled softly and laid back on the bed in an effortless sprawl, making no move to cover his state of undress, he reached under the flat pillows and produced his gold cased lighter and a cheap pack of cigarettes, crushed beyond redemption. There was the telltale click of the lighter and a small ring of fire appeared at the end of the cancer stick, Yohji's face was illuminated for a short-lived second, his eyes were intense and full of questions, questions Aya wasn't ready to answer. His lips tightened as they clamped on the cigarette and he inhaled contentedly. Aya stalked towards the bed and he stood there for a minute, looking down at Yohji as the man looked back at him with guarded look in his eyes, he made the decision and joined him. Laying down right beside Yohji's tense form, close but not touching. A wispy cloud of smoke came from the small gap of pink lips, and then tiny smoke rings danced towards the dark ceiling. Aya looked at Yohji's slack face and lean body. The taller man blew smoke his way, deliberately, verdant eyes were mocking, knowing he despised cigarettes. Smoke danced around them, swirling soothingly and almost playfully and Aya realized that he had never felt more at home. The familiar surroundings and Yohji's presence made it even more poignant. Yohji shifted uncomfortably under his sharp gaze. Hands moved tentatively and their fingers entwined, Yohji made small circles on the palm of his hand, rubbing it gently, something he always did when he tried to apologize.

"I hate this," he murmured into the darkness, maybe at him or at no one in particular.

"Me too," Aya answered.

"Is it okay like this?"

"Aa." Fingers trembled and flexed.

A soft sigh. "I'm sorry."

Aya smiled, "It happens Yotan."

Yohji's hold on his hand tightened, almost painfully, "You always have to put up with my shit."

Aya was silent for a moment, then he grabbed Yohji's chin, "Look at me."

Yohji looked, his eyes clouded and his lips quivered. Aya's mouth curled into a genuine smile, "God, I missed you."

A soft whimper escaped him and his arms were full of Yohji; strong hands encased his waist, fingers embedding viciously into the skin. He was hard, the flesh straining almost painfully in its confinement of coarse fabric. Yohji needed to see him suffer because he suffered every minute without him. Aya covered his hands with his own, forcing the digits to pierce deeper. Yohji gasped, releasing him angrily. He watched the stoic redhead, anger and lust a bizarre combination in his eyes. It had once been a game, their territory and oblivion. It was their right to maneuver each other's emotions to cause pain and an insatiable thirst for revenge. It was another of those acts to let Yohji know that although Aya didn't control his body, he still unquestionably controlled his heart.

"Aya," the name was uttered as if it were a curse.

The blonde loomed over him; grabbing his hands, swinging his left wrist over his right wrist and entrapping them above his head with one hand. His eyes now were pools of emptiness, Aya now realized that Yohji had gotten what he wanted from the girl but not what he needed, and only he could give Yohji what he needed. His lover had found no absolution in senseless sex, and the search for eternal nothingness was stripped from him the moment he took Aya to his bed, and maybe, Yohji hated him for it. Sometimes he forgot how truly beautiful Yohji was, he remembered how long slim fingers used to comb through the tousled curls of hair, parting the thick golden mane with practiced ease. The smooth exquisiteness of his tanned face and the sculpted lushness of full lips. Yohji's eyes were dreamy, yet aglow with a frigidity that Aya knew he was responsible for. He wanted to touch Yohji with his wandering hands, testing the underlying strength of carved muscle. This wasn't love, it was just an obsession admixed with admiration and shameless desire. He was dazed by Yohji, wanting to have him with such fierce possessiveness that it shocked and terrorized him. Yet he couldn't stay away. He was pulled up on the bed, the smell of cheap perfume and sex invaded his senses, his arms went around the older man, taking in everything, the musk of sweat, smoke, women and under it the smell that was solely Yohji.

Yohji regarded him for a moment, then, fingers lifted his chin and soft lips came down on his, he tasted cigarettes and whiskey, he tasted Yohji. Their tongues tangled and slid against each other slowly, savoring a simple action that was long forgotten in their confusing worlds. Yohji lips traced a path to his sensitive ear, and he dipped his tongue into the delicate shell and Aya gasped out his name. Yohji pulled back, Aya's hands twisted in his grip, as he moved against his lover's body sensuously; his legs went limp, parting wider to accommodate the blonde's pelvis as Yohji lowered his head to kiss him once more. Holding his lower lip between his teeth he whispered into the redhead's mouth, "Stay with me."

Aya crumbled; his head tilted back, sleek limbs pulsating rhythmically beneath Yohji. The blonde made quick work of Aya's clothes and soon had him naked and panting under him. Yohji bent his head, the thick mass of flaxen locks brushed against his face; he was kissed again, lips desperate and ravenous, their erections unrestricted and aching, and the primitive friction utterly delicious. Lips sucked at his throat tenderly, nipping playfully and his tongue moved in tiny languid circles over the expanse of white skin, Aya rubbed against him pleadingly, his breathing heavy. The rough stroke of a slick tongue touched him, lapped and slid over his neck, the pleasure sending shock after shock through him. Yohji reached for a condom on the nightstand.

"I'm going fuck you Aya."

"Hn."

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right, Yohji thought. That was his last coherent thought and he was swallowed by waves of pleasure.

He shut his eyes tightly, and turned to face the wall, hoping that he looked relaxed enough to seem asleep. He heard the gentle rustle of the sheets and felt a slight movement that let him know he was the sole occupant of the soft bed. He only had to wait a few more minutes to hear the unsure footsteps become more distant. Yohji must have gone out for a smoke, he mused. It was only until he heard the closing of the door that he opened his eyes, a sigh of relief escaping his swollen lips. Yohji had surely made up for all the weeks they'd been away from each other. He got out of bed hastily, not even bothering to pull on a robe and scraping his own skin in the process. He headed for the bathroom.

Water rushed down his back like a sweltering river, drenching his body in heat and steam, he lifted his head towards the merciless spray, pushing the wet strands of hair out of his eyes. He was satisfied and sore, yet something troubled him. He let his skin redden and burn, he desperately wanted to wash the scent of Yohji away......... because he was falling in love and could do nothing to stop it.

To be continued..................

Notes: I hope you liked this, please review. I will post the next chapter this weekend and this short fic should be done within next week. More to come, stay tuned!

Ciao.


	2. Realization

**Title: Dirty.**

**Disclaimers: No, no and no, I do not own, I just like to play with the boys. Don't sue, you'll get a couple of Monopoly paper dollars.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Summary: Yohji and Aya come to terms with their unstable relationship with the unintentional help of an unwelcome rival.**

**AN: Enjoy the sequel to Dark Release. R&R, don't be too harsh on me. **

**Chapter 2: Realization.**

The slender body undulated under him, sleek limbs bent in animalistic movements. He was engulfed by a clenching heat and with a soft hiss; he began to thrust into the willing body. He stared at the face intently, drinking in the white skin shimmering with sweat, the soft lips that gasped softly and moaned wantonly. He saw delicate angle of the aquiline nose that took in deep breaths and the rosy hued cheekbones that stretched when he opened his mouth wider to scream. Once again he tasted the swollen lips, running a languid tongue lightly against the soft flesh, the pale man beneath him responded in a muffled moan and long fingered white hands dug into the mounds his ass, urging him deeper into Aya.

His narrow hips moved faster, and a soft groan came from parted pink lips, yet the sounds of pleasure that he made seemed distant, grotesquely displaying some false ecstasy.

Heavy lidded eyes trembled gently and the thick arc of lashes opened slowly, to reveal dull amethyst orbs.

Yohji finally got his answer. In just that brief moment Aya's mask slipped and he got a glimpse of what the smaller man was really feeling. He had a chance to plunge into the most intimate parts of Aya, and for a second, he was struck numb, his body frozen. Aya's hands ran over his back as he drew Yohji into an embrace, his head lolled back, a poor resemblance of a broken porcelain doll. He sighed gently, Yohji's eyes widened considerably as he realized that it was a sigh of relief, relief that he had stopped fucking Aya, it was like the other man was taking a moment of rest to resume an unbearable torture once again.

As if grasping the fact that Yohji had really stopped, he looked at Yohji, a clearly puzzled expression in his face; he shifted suggestively against the erect cock that was still buried inside him. Yohji chose to ignore it and Aya's frown deepened; a tanned hand was lifted to seize a pointed chin. Aya stared impassively, waiting for Yohji to say something and give an excuse regarding the fact that he had stopped in the middle of sex.

Yohji's breath hitched and with determination he began to move again, snapping his hips forcefully impaling the white form, still everything he had been looking for was screaming loudly from the violet orbs, pleading to be revealed. There was no denying it and in those eyes there only was cold detachment and pain, so much pain. Even as Aya whispered his name and clutched him tighter convulsing in the throes of a violent orgasm, Yohji could see the poorly hidden irritation lurking behind an immaculate cold blanket of resigned tolerance. It was a shocking truth that Yohji refused to accept, he told his mind repeatedly that Aya loved him, still he couldn't block out the pain and agony that was slowly seeping through him. He had been a fool, a selfish romantic to believe that Aya could care for him at all, and he had thought that their encounters in the bed had been out of mutual lust and love, yet he noticed that it was like a cheesy soap opera and that Aya was the sacrificing maiden, fate was a bitch and he had to acknowledge it. Aya was hurting because he had been afraid to tell Yohji how he really felt. Now Yohji knew.

Aya was staring at him again, a guarded expression on his face and with reason as Yohji acknowledged that this had been the strangest experience they'd ever had in bed. Aya moved uncomfortably angling his hips and pressing closer against him, a dead voice broke the silence, "You're still hard."

Yohji's smile was bitter and a rage was steadily building inside him, he tilted his head, as if contemplating the truth of Aya's statement, he plunged inside with a forceful thrust, ignoring Aya's sharp intake of breath, was his lover feeling pain? Yohji admitted that he didn't care if that was the case. He smiled nastily at the wide eyed man sprawled under him. "Hmmm, I guess I am. We have to do something about that don't we?"

His cock throbbed inside the muscled ring of flesh; twitching in need. He began to thrust again, ruthlessly pounding into his lover. Aya's eyes rolled to the back of his head, displaying only the vivid white of the sclera, sharp teeth pierced the pouty lower lip and a gurgled moan of pain came from him. The bed rocked with Yohji's forceful movements and Aya's muscled legs wrapped tightly around him, taking some sort of punishment and accepting the pain that Yohji was causing him, a weak sob escaped him and he twisted his head into the pillow. Yohji stiffened and the pleasure that followed was a dry and meaningless feeling, he lay atop Aya, damp dark blond hair clung to his face. Aya pushed back the errant strands and ran his fingers over Yohji's face. Guilt barreled into him and he found himself asking his confused lover, "Are you alright?"

He was graced with a brief nod and he pulled out of Aya with a slight wince, he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out some tissues to clean them both. Aya replied with a grateful grunt as he wiped the sticky mess of his cum from both their chests and lower bodies. They both lay side by side, no touching or cuddling this time, it had all been different and more violent, there was less emotion, only a monotonous performance and it wasn't enough.

* * *

She lay motionless on the carefully made bed, her scalp parted in a clean, straight line that ended into neatly pleated braids hanging artfully on either side of her head, dark hair curling around her heart shaped face. The slim bar of gold pierced into her snowy ear contrasted against the sable curtain of her braids. A thin hospital sheet covered her fragile form concealing the IV tube that was punctured into her right arm.

He stood at the foot of the bed, thin lips drawn back into a menacing smile. He could feel her power surging through his mind, though dormant, it still possessed the level of a powerful psychic. That mock assassination had fitted their purposes after all, it had cut her off from the world and it had given them an opportunity to meddle and search through her nearly dead mind. Her memory had already been thoroughly erased, all thanks to him and now came the simplest part of it all. He closed his eyes, attempting to muster enough concentration to carry through the task and trying to calm his rising excitement. Oh there would be pain, there would be so much of it, and he would be right there reaping the aftershocks. He could feel the low hum begin to build, slowly and steadily, like a carefully measured and timed tsunami.

"Wakey, wakey," he murmured gently and sent a vicious jolt through her helpless mind. Her body arched violently off the bed, twisting at a gruesomely inhuman angle, the sheet slid from her body revealing small, childlike breasts and pale boyish limbs. She jerked once more, her lids opened, the almost translucent whites of her eyes visible and almost blinding. The dry lips parted in a needy gasp and white hands scraped brutally at the air. He laughed; a low husky sound and just stood there, examining her reaction to his ministrations with glee. Then she stopped moving and was still on the bed.

"I know you're awake, rise and shine beautiful," he said; almost happily.

It was as if her upper body rose out of its own volition, her head tossed back as if she was a limp rag doll. Then she moved, almost too fast for the human eye to see. Skinny hands gripped his throat with a bruising force, squeezing angrily; bony fingers sinking into his jugular. He smiled through the haze of pain, reading through her terrifying panic and confusion.

He sent another spike of pain into her mind and she fell to the cold floor, a mass of bones curled into a tight trembling ball. He wanted to rip her brain to shreds, it called to him, and it excited him to no ends. He crouched down beside her, her eyes were closed now, they had only opened once and he felt that something was terribly wrong.

He shook her gently and like a horrified rabbit she scurried away, dragging her thin body on the hard floor.

"Who are you?" It wasn't a question; it was an evidently confused plea.

"A friend," he replied smoothly.

"Who am I?"

"Aya."

That seemed to appease her to some extent, she cocked her head to the side and in a quick motion her eyes opened. He was transfixed, staring into the brilliant white of those orbs, she leaned forward and touched his face gingerly, her hand threading through his long hair.

"I like red hair," she said simply, almost wistful, "it reminds me of someone."

"You can see me?" he asked incredulously.

"Why wouldn't I be able to?" it was a rhetorical question, at least to her, "I can also feel you, it's like seeing you in a different perspective"

He pointed towards the tiny mirror at on the otherwise plain wall. She looked at him again, those white eyes blinking slowly, but she stood up shakily, not without his help. She walked sure-footedly towards the glass and upon reaching it she stopped, touching her cheeks, forehead, nose, lips and lastly, her eyes.

"I did what I could," he said gently.

She opened her mouth and screamed.

* * *

He stared dumbly at the mutilated rose, then back at his own hand that held the pruning shears. He shook his head and threw it to the floor, next to the pile of disfigured roses. Aya stripped off the gardening gloves and raked a hand through his hair in irritation, he'd been as stupid as he could be. He just couldn't be near Yohji, not when everything had been going on for so long. The events of the previous night kept running through his confused mind, he replayed the scenes over and over looking for a loophole, a clue. Something happened, he didn't know what it was and it was driving him crazy. He had to admit that once again he was to blame; if he hadn't gone to the blonde's room a few nights ago then none of this would have occurred. If only he had remained in his room and ignored the sense of solitude and longing in his body, then Yohji would have still been dead to the world today, sleeping off a night of debauchery instead of getting up early with a lecherous grin on his face and watching Aya's every move keenly. They were back to square one with the usual bonus of fantastic fucking, the nuisance of Aya's new found feelings and Yohji's odd behavior.

Soft green eyes watched the slim redhead, today like the days before Aya had wasted two dozen flowers on purpose. If it had been Yohji, he wouldn't care but this was focused, tidy Aya. Something was wrong and he was going to find out. Yohji had always prided himself in understanding people, correction, in understanding women. Aya sure as hell wasn't a woman. Yohji figured that his mind was still numb; he still refused to come to terms with that dispassionate look on Aya's face last night. He wanted to remain blind to it all, yet he wished that Aya would have told him the truth long ago, instead of leading him on a fairy tale that would end in a bloodbath. There was also the problem of Aya's nightmares and restless slumber; he called out the names of places in his mind and he was constantly calling out for his sister, and the puzzling fact was that he spoke them in a foreign language. They had gotten worse; Aya could no longer sleep and demanded constant sex from Yohji, although he wasn't complaining; he had no desire to be used like whore. Aya denied his dreams; it was as if he even forgot them. If Yohji didn't know the swordsman, he might have said that he was fucking crazy. Aya would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and then with dilapidated, void eyes would ask Yohji, "Why are you staring at me like that?" then return to sleep only to repeat the act again. Yohji was at his wits end and so it seemed, was Aya, it had to be if the redhead had allowed Yohji to see what he truly felt after successfully hiding it during all the months of their affair. He wasn't loved, that was okay. Aya just viewed him as a tool for absolution and pleasure and again Yohji told himself that was okay. His eyes stung, and that too was okay. He made his way over to the oblivious pale man.

"Oi Ayan, are you okay?"

He saw the slack form jump at the sound of his voice, pale face forlorn and sullen; he tried to suppress the frown that was beginning to mar his features.

"Aya?" Yohji stared at his lover, violet eyes were fixed on something invisible, unseeing and slowly reason came back into them as if he recognized Yohji for the first time. Thinly hidden behind amethyst irises he was annoyance then the dullness of resignation and agony. Yohji was startled as a thought slithered into his mind; he noticed that it was the same expression Aya always wore after they'd had sex. His mouth flattened into a thin line and he shook Aya firmly.

"What?" came the automatic reply, never losing a degree in its mechanical frigidity.

"What's wrong?"

"Go away Yohji."

Yohji gritted his teeth at the chilly tone of voice, yep they were back to normal, "C'mon, were going upstairs."

Obviously his stubborn lover took it as an invitation for something else and his eyes narrowed in anger, "No."

Yohji sighed, patience, he had to be patient, "Not for that Aya."

"It always ends up in that" he spat.

Why was it that the lack of emotion on Aya's face always got to him? Aya knew it and that's why he did it. Yohji thought he'd had a glimpse into the complex makings of the swordsman that night a few months ago in that shabby apartment, but it was just a phase Aya had been going through. He wondered if Aya thought him stupid, oh yes, they both enjoyed fooling around with each other but that was where Aya really drew the line. Yohji accepted his own idiocy, he'd told Aya how he really felt and for a while he thought Aya felt so too. He'd been damned wrong. He was drawn from his thoughts as he heard the clatter of the shears as they fell to the floor. Aya spared him one last look and headed towards the greenhouse leaving the table scattered with petals, stems and bits of ribbon. Another thing that meticulous Aya wouldn't have done.

"Wait."

He followed his hotheaded lover into the stifling space of the greenhouse, he grabbed Aya by the shoulders and spun him around, the smaller man snarled at him and stood defiantly. Yohji knew that stance, Aya was ready to swing at him, if things got out of hand there was gonna one hell of a fight because he was going to find out what had got up Aya's ass, even if he had to beat it out of the obstinate prick.

On the other hand...........

He only took notice of the slight widening of the almond shaped eyes before he draped an arm around Aya waist and drew him close, the slender body in his arms stiffened but Yohji took no notice, he pressed his lips firmly against Aya's. Even when the man was unresponsive he tasted sweet, Yohji licked the corner of the closed lips before kissing him again, more forcefully this time.

Tapered fingers curled around the sides of his shirt and with a vengeful force pushed him away, nearly sending him toppling into the shelves of potted plants.

"Leave me alone, I'm not something you can screw whenever the weather suits you Kudoh," Aya said coolly, his voice contrasting with the black rage in his eyes, he was trembling, appearing to have trouble controlling the wild anger that had suddenly crashed on him.

Yohji stared at him, dumbfounded, before he felt his own anger rise at being treated like this, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted, "A few days ago you were just fine with me, you were the one who came to me in the middle of the night. I mean, fuck," Yohji yanked on his hair, gripping the strands tightly, "I love you but I can't deal with this if I don't know what crawled up your ass."

Aya sneered, "Sure you do."

Yohji glared at him for the smart comment, "I don't, fill me in."

"You know what's wrong," Aya's voice was low, angry, "you see it every night after I'm with you."

Yohji stood motionless, "Maybe I do."

Aya just looked back at him, anger fading away from his eyes and leaving them dead and half dazed, "Then do something about it."

Why was it that Yohji hated silences? Because during the stillness people thought and made drastic decisions and he knew that Aya could take drastic to another level with his own paranoia. It seemed to be the case now. The door to the green house creaked loudly and Omi's face popped in, he was smiling but his eyes had no trace or amusement in them. Aya turned to Omi, a question evident on his face.

Omi nodded, "Mission." Then he was gone.

Just like that Aya put his life on hold to kill someone, it was amazing how he could shut down and go into Abyssinian mode and no one could take him out of it. Aya spared him a sideways glance, "Let's go."

There was no, "we'll talk later," just Aya's short vocabulary stating that their conversation was over and God help Yohji if he brought it up again. Yohji's hands clenched, one thing was certain, they were both back to square on and there seemed to be a roadblock, but fuck if he didn't get them both through it. He wasn't letting go of Aya, he just wasn't. Aya strode towards the front door and began to close shop, pretending he wasn't there. Yohji looked around and shrugged lightly, then moved towards the door that led to their basement, all the while he felt the heat of the violet eyes that followed him, and it burned through his clothes and his very soul, most of all, it burned through his heart.

* * *

He stood outside the café, wondering if he should enter and wishing he didn't have to. The September breeze chilled him yet reminded him that he was still able to feel. His footsteps seemed too loud in his ears and his breathing too hurried. He saw him through the large glass window before he entered, long hair whipped around and a smirk welcomed him. The gaijin shook his head at him, and got up, throwing a few bills on the table. He smiled as he got nearer.

_[Lets get out of here.] _

He hated that nasal voice; he hated it in his dreams and in his life and feared having to deal with it even in death. They moved together, walking at a leisurely pace in surprisingly easy synchronization. They strolled through the multitude as if admiring the sights and he saw a mocking smile on the long haired man's face, which soon grew into a cynical twist of the lips and a lady near them screamed in pain. Hmm, someone was having fun. Yet they kept walking.

They came to a halt at another café, he sighed wondering how long he'd have to put up with the idiot. Both of them entered; this one was more lavish, expensive, he noticed as they were ushered into a secluded booth. Yet he forced himself to ignore his surroundings wondering when they would get it over with. Lime green eyes stared into his own, a mixture of anticipation and amusement dancing in their depths.

The man took out a cigarette and lit it, prolonging whatever he had to tell him. They sat in silence as the other man smoked; he had to tolerate this, if he didn't then it would all be worthless.

_[Not all katzchen, you still have a debt to repay.]_

He nodded in acknowledgement, his passive demeanor waning, "Tell me."

That infuriating smirk came again, "She's not dead."

He shivered, "I know, you told me last week. Don't let her die."

"Ch' I'm better than that, I won't, besides, you have something I want."

He knew this was coming, Aya closed his eyes and leaned back into his booth, "What?"

Schuldig laughed softly, "Balinese."

Aya smiled sadly, he was an idiot for hoping that the German wanted something else, for hoping that the German wanted him instead of Yohji, because even now he wasn't sure of his ability to let Yohji go without fighting back. He had seen the hunger in Schuldig's eyes before, he had seen how he looked at Yohji during the times when Weiss was unfortunate enough to encounter Schwarz during missions, and he knew it because the look on the German's face was the same one he didn't allow himself to show, but inside he burned for Yohji. The blonde was _his_.

"No."

"What was that? Too bad, she'll die."

Aya took a deep breath, this was his sister whom he'd thought dead; he loved her. It had been a shock to hear that, mostly from his enemy. Schuldig had been paying him dream visits for a month now, yet everything they spoke about Aya always forgot. He suspected it was the German's doing.

_[Correct.]_

This morning he had awoken with a sense of urgency and Schuldig's voice filled his head, only one sentence had been repeated over and over: "She's awake."

It had triggered his memories and he remembered those tormenting dreams. Aya-chan was alive and awake and her brother was an assassin, a traitor and he was about to make a deal with the devil himself to see her once more. It never seemed to end, his cycle of self-sacrifice. Why hadn't the German wanted him instead? It was easier to give himself up than to give up something he cherished instead.

_[Sorry but you're already too fucked up, I wanna do the breaking and the fucking to Yohji myself. What will it be?]_

"Fine, watch over her." Aya slid out of his seat, the man's chuckle drew his attention, "what?" he asked peevishly.

_[We've got company.]_

Aya faced the door and his heart plummeted at the sight of Yohji standing at the door, with murder written in his eyes. Aya glared at Schuldig, the man grinned at him.

_[Just wanted to spice things up a bit. The back door is through the kitchens to your left. Have fun]_

Aya gave him a distressed look and fled with Kudoh hot on his heels. He could still hear Schuldig's laughter echoing in his mind.

To be continued................

AN: ok rushed through this chapter, I hope you liked it; last chappie will come next week. Please review, I'd love to see at least ten more to finish this ne? No reviews then.............ta da! No story! I'm evil. This story has grammar errors because I don't have a beta reader, I'm sick of editing my own stories and it gets so boring that I lose my train of thought and inspiration. I simply refuse to edit my stories anymore, if I do, I'll never finish 'em.

Ja ne minna!

Responses to reviews:

R.C McLachlan: Lol, I'm sorry, it takes a lot out of me to write such angst between two bishounen. If it makes you feel better I have this story finished so I won't leave you hanging, I just need to edit it. Thank you for reviewing and there's only one more chappie to go! I hope you enjoyed this one.

Koneko: I'm glad that you like this story I plan to have a sequel to this one in a very long time but for now enjoy it and expect spontaneous fics from me! I hope you liked this chapter and thanks for reviewing.

Tigermink: I appreciate the fact that you think my stories are intense, to tell you the truth I don't think I've done the Dark Release sequel any justice but I knew that if I didn't write this fic by the end of summer I'd never finish it. There will be a dry spell of prolly 8 months so enjoy this one! Thanks for reviewing!


	3. AN: Gomen

Dear Readers:

I know that I promised that I would update last week or even before that, but life has a way of biting me in the ass when I'm determined to finish something. I moved so I don't even have my computer yet. I have to have it shipped then I'll be able to get some work done. The good news is that there is only one more chapter to this fic( that chapter is already finished), then another fic linked to this one will come along sometime later. I'll make no promises on that one. But I do swear that as soon as the ship my computer I will revise and post the last chapter of "Dirty," Once again I apologise and hope that you can bear with me. Another thing, if you would like the chapter to be posted faster then I really need a beta reader, it's easy for me to type but I absolutely hate editing my stories, that's the reason I don't write more often. I'll get it to you as soon as possible! thanks again for reading and I'll try to make the last chapter worth the wait!

Yin.


	4. Choice

**Title: Dirty**

**Disclaimers: No, no and no, I do not own, I just like to play with the boys. Don't sue, you'll get a couple of Monopoly paper dollars.**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Summary: Yohji and Aya come to terms with their unstable relationship with the unintentional help of an unwelcome rival.**

**AN: Once again, I am terribly sorry for the long wait. I got my computer back but then the internet was not working! The horror! I bet most of you gave up on my lazy butt. Don't worry here it is as promised. Do drop a line. A lot of people seem to have read this and it hurts my feelings to see that very few have had the courtesy of saying something. Please review. Please note that this is the last chapter and that the Epilogue is coming next. Which by the way, I have already finished! Kudos for me and pocky for all! Yay! **

**Warning: since I've been pressured for not posting, I was unable to edit this last chappie, watch out for violent punctuation marks, pissed off letters who got thrown out of a Spelling Bee and most of all watch out for the grammatical blunders of stupid me! Ha! That rhymed!**

**THE NC-17 VERSION HAS BEEN CUT OUT. YOU CAN FIND IT AT **

**my username is Yin and the fic it still titled Dirty.**

**If you are like me and like the good lemony stuff then go read it! God knows I hate insinuated yaoi, all the way! yay!**

**Chapter 3: Choice.**

Rain fell lazily, droplets beating gently against glass windows and dancing with the pebbles on the ground. He stood drenched to the bone, his clothed soaked through, he didn't want to go back to the flower shop, and he just couldn't. White hands fisted inside sodden tight jeans, the black leather coat stuck to his back and wet hair kept getting in his face no matter how many times he pushed it away. Rain spattered happily over the city and time passed by like a weak old lady. He looked up and saw a figure standing on the other side of the alley.

The burning cylinder of tobacco fell carelessly to the wet ground, soon to be crushed by a steel-toed boot. He tried to see the tall silhouette clearly but water kept getting into his eyes. The person came closer and Aya caught a whiff of tobacco.

"Yohji."

A tanned hand reached out to caress a marble cheek, reaching up to brush away the flat wet strands of his hair. Aya remembered a moment like this before, in the dingy interior of a darkened room. They'd both been fools and still were.

Piercing emerald eyes held him in place, he saw the utter indifference in those dead orbs, "I guess I should ask you....,"Yohji said, his voice low, "What the hell you were doing with Schuldig earlier?"

Yohji's tone was lifeless, "Did he fuck you?"

"What business is it of yours?" The angry question burst from his protesting lips. He paid no heed to the way his chest constricted painfully and the muscles in his body tensed.

"You're a traitor to Weiss........" _and to me._ The words weren't said but Aya heard them, he saw it in the older man's eyes.

"Move out of the way."

"No."

"I'll kill you."

"I don't care." Yohji's words were cold, heartless, Aya knew he meant it.

"She's not dead," Aya whispered, "Aya-chan is still alive."

Rain pelted down in heavy buckets, Yohji's right arm came around his bony shoulders and Aya gasped, the blonde stared at him dispassionately, "Didn't you hear me? I don't care."

Still Aya held the arm around him, "Don't............."

He buried his face in Yohji's soaked shirt, but the man made no move to comfort him.

"How long Ayan?"

"A month."

Yohji's form stiffened, "Was it good for you?"

"No!" he shouted, panic welled up in him, stifling him to the point of insanity. "I didn't sleep with him, I......I........"his voice broke; he tried to keep everything inside, sort it out, make sense of senselessness, Yohji's shouldn't be tainted with his wasted life.

"He wants you Yohji, he doesn't want me. He's been plaguing my dreams for a month, he told me to meet him today to finally settle things. He wants me to let you go; if I do then Aya-chan will be safe."

Water dripped down his face from Yohji's hair, "Will you let me go?"

Aya released him, stepping back to look at Yohji's dreadfully inert face, "Yes."

Fury swirled inside him, his hands trembled and tremors swamped him. Yohji growled, even when he wanted to kill Aya he still wanted to fuck him at the same time. He studied the oval face, the high set of the pinkly brushed cheeks, and the straight slant of the nose merging with the slight flaring of heated nostrils. Dark lashes spiked and wet veiled shimmering violet eyes and the generously shaped mouth parted, he was entranced, he wanted to kiss him. Aya eyed him warily; he always knew when Yohji wanted him.

Aya said, "Yohji I— "

"Shhh, don't talk," came the husky interruption.

Yohji's arms circled around his waist but Aya disengaged himself.

"I don't love you," he said it as if they were discussing the weather.

Yohji smiled slightly, "You don't?"

Aya's head snapped up quickly and he gave Yohji a strange look before nodding.

"I already knew that."

Ay looked away, "When?"

Yohji laughed mirthlessly, "When Aya? Every time I tell you I love you and it takes you twenty seconds to say the words back! Every time I make love to you and you turn your face away, closing your eyes as if just to focus on the pleasure and forget that the person fucking you is me!"

Yohji was panting, his eyes a fiery green, he pushed a ghostly Aya against the wall, banging him against it for good measure, "and you know what else, I know you don't want me or love me because you always take showers after we fuck. You try to erase my touch from your skin and I've heard you crying in the bathroom. I fucking heard you crying that night three months ago! I saw the cuts on your hands Ayan, I saw it all!"

"You were asleep!" Aya shouted, hoping, praying for his worthless cause and barely recovering from his shock.

"I wasn't! Do you think I'm that stupid! God! Why do you think I went back to my old life, I wanted to forget that I ever had you in my bed! I couldn't, you came back to me and I couldn't turn you down, and you know why, you fucking know better than anyone!"

Aya just stared at him, his face a pallid shade, his eyes haunted, "I have to go."

As he turned to leave, Yohji's wiry body crashed into him again, pushing him into the concrete wall, he was glad that he had his leather coat for protection or he'd have some nasty bruises later on. Said coat was stripped from him and thrown away to form a heavy soggy heap.

"Let go Yohji."

Yet Aya could feel the heat, that insatiable need that interweaved from the core of his being to the very tips of his outstretched fingers and then collided back into the most private part of him. Silky lips brushed his throat; he felt the hard teeth on his neck the erotic glide of a curious tongue. Aya hissed; air whistling through his lips, he took hold of Yohji's shirt and brought the man up to face him, Yohji licked his lips, his tongue running suggestively over the pink flesh.

"Why do you always do this?" Aya asked, his voice torn and anguished.

Yohji smiled cruelly, "Because I can."

His mouth parted and soft lips crushed his. He was kissed hungrily, it was an angry kiss, meant to bruise but he wanted it. Oh yes. The blonde caught his mouth with his teeth, pulling at his lower lip, his tongue plunging into him, searching, anxious. Aya met him halfway his arms curling around the nape of Yohji's neck, threading past the wet golden hair and arching his body into the blonde's hard form, their pelvises sliding against each other. The older man kissed his ear; fingers caressed his jaw and brushed against his cheeks. The rain turned into a merry drizzle, falling lightly around them. Skilled digits worked at his fly, desperate and demanding, Yohji nuzzled his neck, his frantic breathing prickling the tiny hairs on his skin. Hands reached inside his wet jeans and he heard Yohji laugh softly, "Good, no underwear."

His lover cupped him gently then squeezed, Aya's vision blanked. Yohji kneeled before him, his movements quick and precise, his lower body was pressed harder against the wall and Yohji took him in his mouth smoothly. He heard a low wet sound and with a soft cry his hands slid over Yohji's tumbled locks, watching with utter ecstasy as he slid in and out of the wet cavern of his lover's mouth. A slithering tongue massaged his cock; Yohji stroked him with his tongue and lips, occasionally running his teeth long the hard length. The blonde pulled back, balancing the weight of his upper body on his knees and letting both his hands reach behind him to lay flat on his discarded coat, eyes challenging and amused at Aya's state of disarray.

"What do you say Aya? Can I screw you into the wall?"

Aya bit his lip, hardening even more as he realized how he must look to Yohji, wearing only a drenched white tee that was glued to his chest and with his dick hanging out of his pants, hard and throbbing, he felt like he was going to explode.

"Yeah," he breathed.

He pulled out of Aya gently, they both gasped, their sensitized flesh tingling. Long legs untangled from his damp back, Aya shook in his arms, Yohji didn't know if it was the aftermath or revulsion on the redhead's part. Strong hands were removed from his shoulders and for a minute, Aya looked like he would be unable to stand on his own, he pressed his body back against the wall, needing support, still he didn't say a word. Aya refused to make eye contact with him, his head bowed as he moved to grab his wet jeans off the ground, he saw the younger man grimace at the sodden bundle of denim, and remembered the impracticalities of having sex in the rain.

Yohji watched him with hooded eyes and a sardonic smile on his face, watching the disarrayed mop of Aya's hair shift into a lighter shade as the lamps from the street nearby shed a weak light on the darkened alley. Yohji looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly seven thirty. Aya struggled as he pulled on his jeans, so nervous he had become startlingly clumsy. Yohji just shook his head ruefully and with numb realization he noticed that he hadn't even adjusted his own pants. He let out a humorless bark of laughter and Aya turned to look back at him, violet eyes burning with such intense scorn that it floored Yohji.

"This doesn't change a thing," the words were said with calculated softness; the slackness of Aya's face was marred by the mocking drawl to his speech and the cynical twist of his mouth. So he was to be thrown away, Yohji thought.

"Are you doing this only for her?"

The wide mouth upturned at the corners scornfully, "No, I have to let you go, if I don't I'll kill you or you'll kill me."

"You love me." A statement; one last try, desperate hands reaching into nothingness and grasping nothing.

Aya gazed at him through the wet silk of his hair, "No," the redhead stepped into his shoes, eyeing him the whole time, "She's more important, we've outlasted this. It's over."

Yohji wasn't going to plead; he wasn't going to ask for more explanations, nothing mattered. Aya gave him a last fleeting look, disgust masking his yearning and despair, and then he disappeared down the alley, into the mists September rain, his feet splashing into small puddles of water as until his profile became a small dot in Yohji's field of vision, the tall silhouette diminishing by degrees in a seemingly non-existent horizon.

He pulled the wet hair away from his face, his body chilled to the core. Yohji tried to reach for his cigarettes in his pockets but found the crumpled box drenched too. He looked up into the sky, willing the rain to wash him, to cleanse him. He felt old, as if he'd been fighting a meaningless battle for centuries, maybe a millennia, now he was willing to give it all up. Through the hazy numbness in his mind and the murky ache that asphyxiated him, the agony blinded him into a crazed denial that was completely out of his jaded persona. Aya could do that to him, Aya had finally shattered him, he had been made, artfully sculpted and skillfully created to fit Aya's needs yet in a single blow the masterpiece that he once was had splintered, leaving sharp dangerous fragments in his wake. In that rubble he accepted the darkness that had long ago called to him and he willingly succumbed to it. The rain fell forcefully; his shoulder length hair was limp, shaping his skull. He lifted his face into the grey downpour, letting his own tears mix with the Tokyo rain.

He stepped into his bedroom and was brought to an abrupt halt. Shock paralyzed him and he couldn't do anything but stare dumbly in front of him. He felt dizzy, he wondered if the few drinks he'd had at that seedy bar were making him hallucinate. He just stared, his eyes wide and portraying a long forgotten tranquility. His body relaxed; something he had been unable to do for a very long time. His eyes stung a little and he had to blink profusely, a knot had coiled in the depths of his being and it seemed to rise and vibrate in his throat. He couldn't swallow and he forgot the simple machinations that led to the uncomplicated process of respiration. Yohji realized that after all the shit he'd been through nothing else mattered because Aya Fujimiya was finally his; because Aya Fujimiya was now sleeping naked on his bed, pale and beautiful in his apparently non-existent frailty.

A tousled head of hair lifted, the eyes held caution, "Gomen ne," the pale man said quietly.

"Aya-chan?" he asked, not wanting to breathe.

"That's different.......... complicated. I won't give you up; you're mine."

Yohji held himself in check, if this was another one of Aya's games he would gut the bastard with his own katana, he held no uncertainties about his train of thought and voiced the threat to Aya.

Low laughter greeted him and Aya said, "C'mere."

Yohji smiled tremulously and did what he was told, shedding wet clothes in an uncaring trail. It reminded him of a quiet tableau, long, long ago. It brought forth cherished memories of that night, of the place in which their paths had shifted, shaped towards their personal road to perdition. He wanted it, he missed it, and he needed it. They were both soiled, dirty with blood and sin, but at the same time it was okay, because he no longer cared. He got into bed and sighed as he held Aya's warm body against his, running his hands possessively over the lean muscles of his belly, kissing the long neck and the smiling lips.

"I thought you had left me."

Silence, then, "So did I."

"But you came back."

A brief nod and a gentle lick to his ear, Yohji shuddered.

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Thank you."

Arms went around him and Aya whispered, "I love you."

Yohji lay still, not breathing; feeling like a great weight was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like he was floating in a sea of red in which all he could see was Aya. He wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh, most of all he wanted to strangle the bastard for putting him through such a mess. Yet the only thing he found himself saying was...............

"About damn time," he growled. Aya elbowed him in mock anger.

"I mean it this time, Yotan."

"I can live with that."

Aya looked into his eyes, his expression anxious, probing, a distressed question he was too afraid to voice. Yohji kissed him, long and delicious, a gentle meeting of tongues that brought a dangerous balance between uncontrolled desire and deliberate lethargy. Aya sighed into the kiss, relishing, accepting and needy. Still, he held back, he wanted something. Yohji knew what. The talented mouth took him in a wet kiss once more and Yohji whispered, "I love you too."

It was enough; those words would forever be enough. They were dirty, filthy with the blood and screams of their victims, sullied with the outspoken shame of their unnatural relationship, but they had a moment of cleansing in their love. The dying embers of that ancient flame had been rekindled and that scorching pleasure began all over again, as if it had never left their realm of uninhibited ecstasy.

fin

Ha! So much for a dry spell during the summer. I realize that I always write well when I'm either upset or drunk. I was upset. Yay! Only the epilogue to go and that I will post in a week or so as soon as I find the time to edit it, if you would like to see it posted faster the e-mail me at and please tell me you'll beta it! I'll send it right away! Btw, if you just can't stand all my errors then feel free to send me your betaed version of this chappie, I'll post it. Partay! I'm so happy! Well I hope you enjoyed the sequel to Dark Release if you haven't read it then go read it! This isn't edited, who cares?! IT'S DONE!!!!

One epilogue coming right up!


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